Cyberbullies Hurt Too
by Tibki
Summary: What did happen in cybercrimes that convinced all of the unit to make Tim boss? Here's my idea. Warning: mentions rape, but otherwise, clean as they come. No ships, just... story.
1. The lowest an agent can go before death

**_bonjour, hola, _and hi again. this is Tibki here, introducing you to my latest plot bunny that i wrote some time ago but will not stop trying to convince me to post. my reasoning here is this: after Judgement Day 2, McGee got moved down to cybercrimes, buthe didn't know what Vance had planned for him at first. this is what i think happened in the first month and a half or so down there, _before_ he was told about the spy thing.**

**disclaimer: no ownage on my part... except for Julie, Smithers, Sandra, Jonsie, and Freddie (:P)**

* * *

_"McGee, I'm transferring you to Cyber Crimes unit."_

Cyber Crimes.

In the third sub-basement of the main building. The lowest place a field agent could ever go, excepting autopsy. It was almost symbolic. The simple fact that he had been transferred down there simply screamed that Vance didn't find him fit for actually fieldwork anymore.

After all, Tony had been taken to the ships. Ziva was sent back to her assassin's life in Israel. He was tucked in a basement and told to do the one thing he had had above them, which of course, involved nothing except sitting at a desk and staring at a screen in a windowless room with fellow geeks.

So of course, he wasn't feeling like the most charitable person towards Director Vance. Privately, he'd wished that Ziva had just killed him the minute he had said the words 'cyber crimes'. Slowly.

And painfully. Especially painfully.

Soon though, the usually short-lived hatred inside Tim had died out. He simply couldn't bring himself to hate anyone. His parents told him he was too good a person, which could be a very good thing. His sister had said he was a wimp. Tony had, unknowingly, agreed. Ziva didn't seem to be able to understand that aspect of not being able to hold a grudge.

But still, the fact that he had had to be accompanied down by the Director himself was trying.

He sort of wanted to shoot him.

Or at least hit him with one of the throwing knives Ziva had made him promise to carry in case the geeks—or Vance—annoyed him.

He might not work under Gibbs anymore, but rule 9 was still in play. Besides, feeling the metal against his right ankle made him think about the days in the bullpen. The good ole days, as Tony would call them with an accent.

As they reached the 3rd sub-basement, Vance stepped out with him in tow. Lined up in front of him were a group of people win loose t-shirts and pants, obviously used to sitting on their butts from 9-5. Most of them had glasses thick enough to act as the bottom of wine bottles.

Oh God.

He wasn't going to end up like them, would he?

Tony would tease him to no end.

If Tony was on dry land. On the right continent.

"Everyone, this is Special Agent McGee," Vance introduced him. McGee nodded to them. One or two waved back. "Agent McGee is new to cyber crimes, but has 5 years of experience under his belt, so I want you to treat him with the respect he deserves. McGee, meet your new coworkers. Settle down, then start working."

He nodded, putting the box he was carrying on the empty desk in front of him. On top of the junk he'd had in his desk was a single photo, of the team and himself at a bar after a successful arrest. That found its own special place before he realized that Vance was still watching him

McGee turned, not saying a word. "Your badge and gun, Agent McGee," he said, holding out a hand.

This caused an immediate reaction in the room; the computer geeks in line behind them all gasped and started whispering. They'd probably never had to work with an actual field agent before. The prospect of a fellow geek carrying a gun was outside their imagination.

McGee's jaw clenched as he tensed. The hatred sprang back from the dead. The last thing he wanted to do was hand his SIG and badge over to this… _man_. It was the last thing he had in connection with the team, besides the photo. Vance saw him, but pressed on. A computer geek couldn't have a gun.

Leon Vance had seen many things in his life, but the amount of menace in the green-eyed glare he received as he drew his gun and badge almost staggered him. For the entire time he'd known him, Tim had seemed like the most peaceable of the entire MCRT. He'd heard rumors about what he would do to protect the ones he loved, but he'd always assumed it was just a rumor.

And he'd just scattered his surrogate family across the entire planet.

But he wasn't going to let that show. And there was one more thing before he left.

"_All_ your guns, McGee."

"What makes you think I have more than one?"

"You worked under agent Gibbs and with Officer David. Don't insult my intelligence, Agent McGee."

McGee almost scowled, something he'd never done in his entire life, but he pulled his spare SIG from his box and the back-up revolver he kept on his right ankle. "Anything else, _Director_ Vance?" he asked with the same amount of venom and insult Gibbs used in the word Director.

"Any more firearms?"

McGee stood for a moment, wondering if he should tell him about the hunting knife on his right ankle. Technically, it wasn't a firearm.

"No."

"Do I have to search you, Agent McGee?"

"Do you trust me, Director Vance?"

He was quiet for a moment, then replied, "You, yes. Gibbs? Less so."

A DiNozzo-worthy smirk played across his lips. "I can honestly tell you, Director, that I don't have any firearms in my possession, excepting the personal one I keep in my house."

"Revolver?"

"No sir, a German Shepherd named Jethro who gets a healthy serving of baked beans every night." He smirked at Vance's face. "And _that's_ firepower."

Someone in the line sniggered. Vance chose to ignore it; he'd get worse from Gibbs later. They were all mad. He understood.

"Paperwork for your transfer will be on your desk soon. A person from Legal will be coming."

"Lee?"

"No. She's been assigned to Gibbs's team." _So that's who was in those files._ "If its any consolation, she's been put in Ziva's desk, not yours. A fellow MIT graduate is getting yours." Vance nodded to the unit, then backed off into the elevator, leaving McGee to his misery.

Tim glared at the closed doors, then did an about face and started pulling things out of his box. He quickly noticed that the room was silent despite the number of people standing there. What, were they expecting him to say something? He had quite a few things to say, but none of them were meant for their ears. These people had done nothing to deserve his anger.

He turned around once again and met their stares evenly.

McGee swallowed. "Er…" _Yeah, real great, Mr. Double-Degree genius. "Er." Seriously. Gibbs would have your head for that._

He covered his throat to cover it, but he was cut off from speaking when a man entered from the other end of the room.

He had tousled black hair and, hidden behind thick glasses, bright green eyes that were very similar to a certain ex-cop's, but with more malice in them than Tony's had had. The others scattered and McGee instantly recognized what happened when a bully entered the realm of geeks.

"Who are you?" he asked in a whiny voice. Suddenly this guy didn't seem like a bully. He looked like the King of Geeks, really.

"Sp…" McGee cleared his throat. "Agent McGee. Just transferred down here."

The man's mouth grew into a smirk like mold grows onto a log. "Ah, so, one more Geek inside my realm! Welcome to cyber crimes, Mc_Geek_. You'll know me as Fredrick among your fellow lowly Geeks, but as sir or boss to me. I am the leader of cyber crimes."

McGee's eyebrows had risen when he said "my realm". At the term McGeek, they'd almost hit his hairline. But when he heard the "sir or boss" comment combined with his claim of the entire unit, they threatened to fall off.

"Boss," one of the men behind him hissed, like he couldn't hear him. "He's a field agent!"

"Did I ask your opinion, Smithers?" he barked nasally. "No, I did not! You know what the punishment is for speaking out of turn. Cough it up."

Smithers sulked, but went over to the desk a ways away from McGee's and took a specially cased pen from his drawer. He grudgingly gave it to "Fredrick" and got back in his place in line.

Frederick snorted, looking down at the glass case. "_This_ is your most prized possession at hand? This piece of _junk_? What is it?"

"A-a pen sir," he replied sheepily. "M-my grandfather gave it to me when I was a kid, before he died. He… said it was my Uncle's, who died in his arms in Vietnam. I… I don't use it, it's just… special to me."

McGee's heart broke for Smithers. Why was he giving the one thing he had left of his uncle and grandfather to this guy?

"Sentimental value?" Fredrick sniveled. "Not much use to me… but it'll do as a good punishment. This is mine for the month."

What?

"Whoa, you can't do that!" McGee protested. "That's his!"

"Not for the next month, it's not, McGeek." Fredrick looked him directly in the eye. "And I plan to use it as _much as possible_ until then. Maybe I'll get lucky and it'll run out of ink before then." He smiled. "You see, that is how it goes down here. You disrespect me, and you lose something you love for a month. You might get it back when it's over, _if_ you're lucky. Now, what sort of underfunded, special-people college did you come from?"

Suddenly, the knife at his ankle really itched. But killing the head of the unit on his first day would be pretty bad on his resume when he got out of jail. McGee crossed his arms and decided that he'd fight back with words.

"I have a B.S. in Biomedical Engineering from Johns Hopkins and a Masters in Computer Forensics from MIT. Had both my degrees by the time I was 24, passed FLETC as valedictorian, joined NCIS afterwards, and the MCRT team a year later, where I've been working under Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and alongside Special Agent Tony DiNozzo for the last 5 years. Compared to him, you're nothing, _Freddie_. You don't scare me."

By the end of his speech, half of the mouths in the room were on the floor. This guy wasn't just a field agent; he was a geek-_turned_-field agent! And he worked under Agent Gibbs!

"What did you do to get sent down here, McGeek?" Frederick asked, unfaltering. "Shoot another cop? Watch as a key witness got strangled again? Get bitten by another dog high on cocaine?"

McGee froze, horror creeping onto his face. Fredrick grinned, seeing the crack in his shield. "Oh yes, ex-Special Agent McGee, I know everything about you. I even know about your little sister. Framed for murder, wasn't she? Honestly. With all the problems you've caused that team upstairs, I'm surprised we haven't met earlier." He went up in his face, smiling evilly like only a geek could. "And thanks to your little backtalk, I'm going to have to give you punishment."

Fredrick turned and looked at his desk, with only one thing on top of it: the photo of his old team. "Ah yes," he said, snatching it and pulling it out of McGee's reach. "Your old team. Ziva David… back in Israel, isn't she? Tony DiNozzo, Agent Afloat. Abby Sciuto… well, we all know Abby. Ducky, Palmer… ah, and Leroy Jethro Gibbs. But who's this way in the corner? Oh, why, it's _you!_ I couldn't tell at first, because, well, you're so well hidden, so… ignored."

Every word hit McGee like a bee sting, sticking inside so deeply he could begin to pull them out. This man knew everything, almost as much as Gibbs had. He knew about Benedict. About Erin, about Jethro, about Sarah.

But worse…

He believed him.

He was right, about everything. He'd caused a load of trouble upstairs. He didn't deserve to be up there. They were better off without him. After all… he was just the probie. Probies got replaced.

Even after 6 years, he was still probie. Maybe that should've been telling him something.

"Agent McGee?" a soft voice asked from his side. He snapped back to the present, looking down at a short girl with huge, sympathetic brown eyes. "I'm Agent Kiddip. You can call me Julie, if you want."

"N-nice to meet you, Julie," he managed to stammer. "Tim."

She nodded. "The trick to living with this guy," she said, her voice hidden from Frederick's ears by the noisy clacking of keyboards, "is to not let anything he says get to you. You have to endure him, though. He says he's one of SecNavs' undersecretary's nephew, and if he gets any word of us treating him badly, we'd be out of the base faster than you can say you're fired."

McGee thought back to his good ole days. "Not the redheaded one," he groaned, falling into his chair and running a hand over his face.

"How did you know?" Julie wondered.

"Because God just seems to hate me that much today," he replied. "First we had to go to Director Shepard's funeral. Then Vance split our team across two continents and a ship. Tony's an agent afloat, with no girls and 5000 men on a rat-infested ship. He had the plague, did you know that? _Pneumonic plague_. Nearly killed him, and now he's stuck with a bunch of rats. Ziva's in Tel Aviv with her father, doing God only knows what, probably killing more people than she's helped in the last 3 years. And now I've been sent to work in a claustrophobic, dimly lit, sub-basement h#!!hole that makes the _Chimera_ look like a cruise ship, underneath the nephew of the assistant to SecNav I told to 'Stick it' when Tony as chained to a fugitive!"

Julie let him breathe for a minute. "Wow. Pretty bad day. On my hand, I've been working under Freddie for the last 5 years and have had to endure everything from getting my most valuable possession snatched to Freddie's Birthday."

"What do you have to do on his birthday?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"The guys have to bring him presents costing over 50 dollars. Most of the girls do too, except one girl who gets handpicked to entertain him that night." If McGee could look any more horrified or surprised, he would have. "Welcome to #3!!, Tim."

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**i can't believe Freddie came from my own mind. i used to be so innocent, then i started hanging around with a bunch of people who sit at my lunch table- some of them are so screwed up (and yet so funny and nice) that they've taken my pure and pristine brains and twisted them and written bad words on them in graffiti and black sharpie (before sniffing said sharpies).**

**sorry if i have a little OCC, this is an early one. there's a good bit more to this, but i promise to update daily.**

**plz tell me if you liked it, hated it, or just want to rant about your weird times and life in general. thats sort of what i did up there. **

**PEACE~ Tibki**


	2. The New Team

**yo. here's today's chappie. thnx to smartkid37 and master0ogre65 for being the first to review. (btw, in answer to the question, Gibbs actually has a _small_ part in this. i know. it's crazy.) this is basically an info chapter, but has a little bit of stuff that leads to the main plot coming up ahead.**

**yes, Lee is in this fic. but she's a good guy here, when her nice side shines through the threats to her fostersister/daughter/whatever Amanda was because i never really understood Dagger.**

**Disclaimer- the only way i will ever own NCIS is Bellasario himself gave me the copyright, and that hasn't happened, so, ergo, i don't own NCIS.**

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The next week was both the worst and the best since he'd been transferred. The worst because, well, Freddie was always there, watching him, like he was going to screw up royally at any moment. The best though, because once he got out of that basement, the real personalities behind the geeks came to light.

His new friends—the surrogate "team", he'd had to admit—were actually a pretty cool group. Julie, the closest to Abby a normal geek could get, quickly became his best friend in cyber crimes. She understood and embraced the technical, geeky side of him, but didn't completely shun the little bit of a field agent left inside.

Sandra, a tall woman with blond hair that was always in a bun, wasn't as understanding. She could talk about computers until their ears fell off, but when the others pressured him to tell them stories about his field agent days, she always insisted that he not tell anything too gory. She had a weak stomach and a hair-trigger heart.

They didn't believe Tim when he told them that he was the same way before joining Gibbs' team.

Smithers, the curly-haired geek missing his pen, was Sandra's opposite. He was actually a geek version of Tony, really, though with much more success as it turned out. Every time they went to a bar on Friday, he always left with a girl on his arm—never Sandra, to both their chagrins.

Jonsie, the final member of the group, was simply the shy kid in the back of the group, always wanting to join in but never daring. Tim had slowly brought him out of his shell, with things learned from both Kate and Gibbs, in a matter of about 2 weeks, and then they were hit by a hurricane. Jonsie had formerly worked for the FBI but had left after his computer had exploded—thanks to an experiment gone wrong by him and a buddy of his. He hadn't exactly quit, though; he'd run from the building at such a high speed, that the agency wasn't even sure if he was still in D.C.

Slowly, they pressured Tim into talking about his "adventures" as an agent under Gibbs more often and without blushing so much. And even more slowly, they grew used to the detail he used in his descriptions of the crime scenes, even Sandra. Jokingly, he'd told them that if they recertified at FLETC, they could be field agents now and not even flinch at a meat puzzle.

When they'd asked what a meat puzzle was, he hadn't replied. Just changed the subject really quickly and with such ease, they didn't notice that they didn't get an answer until they were in bed at home.

Their friendship strengthened as time went on, to the point where Jonsie had finally burst "it" out to Sandra and Smithers, and didn't receive a slap and a smack. They had been dating for a few days now and were both immeasurably happier than before.

Then one day soon after, he got in trouble.

Jonsie had been hanging out with a redhead at the bar they always went to, cheered on silently by his friends. No matter what, he had always been shy around women, even after Tim had made him comfortable around the group. Now it looked like he was finally getting somewhere.

And he did; he left with her that night and they didn't hear from him until Monday morning, when he came through the door smiling at them all. They'd given him a standing ovation, which he'd bowed to and followed the beckoning Freddie into his office.

It turned out that the woman was Freddie's latest crush, and he didn't take it well that the shyest one in the entire unit had scored where he had failed so epically.

He'd assigned poor Jonesie to the Russian decoding section for the day… and Jonsie knew about as much Russian as the pencil on his desk. Vance was waiting on those codes for an MCRT assignment, and was getting impatient.

The others had tried to help him, but Freddie was always watching. All Jonsie could do without sparking suspicion from the geek was throw glances filled with pleas of help to the others.

Tim quickly sent out a mass email to the others, an idea hitting his face like a light bulb had lighted it up. Sandra, Smithers, and Julie read it and nodded to Tim before putting the plan into action.

"Uh, boss?" Julie raised her hand, reminding Tim so much of Abby he smiled. "I, uh, I need your help."

"Hm?" he asked, looking up from Jonsie's computer. "What?"

"Um, this line, um right here, it keeps coming back as gibberish. Can you help me?" She widened her eyes in "fear". He smiled, like a big cat on the prowl, and walked over.

The minute he wasn't watching Jonsie, McGee started hitting his computer's keyboard so fast it almost started smoking. The once-shy man could only watch as his computer was overtaken by Smithers and Sandra, both fluent in Russian, thanks to Tim's quick hacking.

McGee himself picked up his phone and made a quick call to a friend. Julie would only be able to hold Freddie off for so long.

_"Agent Lee."_

"Hey, Michelle, it's McGee," he said, under his breath so Freddie wouldn't hear. "Listen, I need a favor."

_"Sure. What's up?"_

"The case you're working on right now…"

_"What about it?"_ She wondered nervously.

"I need you to stall Vance for a few minutes. The guy that's running this place gave the assignment to a friend of mine who speaks about as Russian as you."

_"I'm learning fairly quickly, Agent McGee."_

"I-I know, sorry, I meant before you got switched to Gibbs' team."

_"This is a high-priority case. Why'd he…?"_

"Because he's an ***, and I would owe you big time if you stalled Vance—or better, could you please call the head of the unit and keep him on the line for a while?"

_"I thought you said he's an ***."_

"He is, trust me," McGee growled. Julie was slyly changing the code under Freddie's nose so that it always came out as mumble-jumble no matter what he did. "Please, Michelle, this is important to me. He's a friend of mine."

_"Oh… I'll see what I can do."_

"Thank you so much," he said, sighing in relief. "I'm buying you a beer after you get out from work."

_"Nuh uh. A vodka. Driest in the place."_

"I know a great place to get vodka. I'll bring the guys so you can meet them, ok?"

_"Alright. Bye, McGee."_

"Thanks again. Bye."

He looked over at Julie, who was watching him, and nodded his head. The sound of a phone ringing cut through the air, from Freddie's office about 100 feet away. He left Julie to her misery, though all she did was convert the sucker back to its original form and get on working.

By the time Michelle had finished talking to Freddie (or flirting, it seemed like, when he came back grinning like a fox. Jimmy had finished it with Michelle, apparently) Jonsie had control of his computer back and had miraculously done the work of two people, finishing the entire page of code.

"Done," he told Freddie with a shy smile. "I already sent it Vance, sir."

"_What?_" he asked, shocked. "That's impossible! You don't even know Russian!"

"He doesn't?" Tim asked from the other side of the room, mock-surprised. "Then why did you give him the Russian code, _boss_? That's not exactly in the best interest of the case, sir."

Freddie unleashed a glare at Tim that only went up to a 5 on his scary stare scale. Definitely not a "Gibbs", or even a ten for that matter. McGee just stared back with what he hoped was an innocent expression.

"Don't try me, McGeek," he said, sneering. "Or else you might find your little friend Agent Lee in trouble."

McGee nearly grew angry at the threat, but put it down… mostly. At the very least, he tried his best to keep his face calm. "_Michelle_ is a field agent under Gibbs with a SIG Sauer, knows Tai Kwan Do, and sits in a desk formerly owned by an Israeli ninja assassin. She won't be afraid of you, and won't be afraid to _shoot_ you if you try to hurt her."

Freddie just turned his back and walked out.

* * *

**see? nice Michelle.**

**this may seem like 2 chapters in one day, but i actually posted this at like 11 last night, so this is today's.**

**this is now an interactive chapter, and this is my question: does anyone know where i came up with the name "Smithers"? i'm not sure what to give as a reward for guessing, so...**

**PEACE~Tibki**


	3. Party Disaster

**new chapter again! srry its so late, i've been running from house to house for Easter feasts all day. i am seriously about to die. this ones a shortie, but sort of dramatic.**

**disclaimer: i am a teenager in northern MS. HOW THE FUDGE WOULD I OWN A HIT TV SHOW?**

* * *

Later that day, the "team" met up with Michelle at a bar specializing in dry vodka. Everyone was introduced, and Jonsie almost immediately hit it off with her. She wasn't exactly interested in another relationship after Jimmy broke it off with her, which he didn't really mind. He was especially careful around women once again.

"So, how're you holding up with Gibbs?" McGee asked after they had all quieted after laughing from Jonsie's latest tale of a nuclear reactor in his basement—he'd almost killed himself and had pockmarks all over his…

"What do you mean?" Lee asked. "He's a good investigator, but tough. What else is there to say?"

Tim shook his head. "He hasn't told you anything about life outside NCIS?" She shook her head, realizing that he had to have a life outside of the HQ. The hurt was written on her face a million times over. "Don't take it personally," McGee told her, "I wouldn't've learned anything about him if Tony hadn't told me. Besides, you used to be a lawyer."

The others in the group nodded as if that explained everything. "Yeah… so?" she wondered, confused.

To her surprise Sandra spoke up, "Gibbs has seven rules about lawyers."

"None of them pretty," Smithers added.

"But all you need to know is rule 13," Julie nodded.

"Unlucky 13," Jonsie said in a stage whisper.

"_Never_ involve lawyers," Tim finished. Lee looked at all of them. "I can't help it if they ask about Gibbs."

"He's like a legend at NCIS," Sandra nodded. "To us geeks in the basement, he's like…"

"The terminator, only less Austrian," Smithers spoke up.

Lee stared at him, then looked at McGee. "Is he Tony in disguise?" she asked him. Tim laughed at the 4's confusion.

"No, Tony's still on the _Ronald Regan_," he shook his head. "It's just my luck, though, always getting stuck with the movie buff who likes practical jokes."

"He made his keyboard explode," Julie explained. "It wasn't a huge Hiroshima thing, just a few pops that made Tim swear in… I think it was Hebrew?"

McGee shrugged. He'd learned several fairly dirty words from Ziva over the years. "Anyway," Julie continued, "Tim thought someone was shooting a gun and ducked. The keys got sent flying and we still don't know where the 'g' is."

"It's suddenly a lot harder for him to type his name!" Smithers joked. McGee flung a beer cap at him, hitting him in the nose. Tim swore as the others roared with laughter.

"I was aiming for his forehead," he grumbled at Julie's confused stare.

Suddenly, his phone rang. McGee excused himself from the table and walked over to a quieter corner of the bar.

"Agent McGee," he said, keeping one eye on the table.

_"T-Tim?"_

"Sarah?" his attention snapped to her at the fear in her voice. "Sarah, what's wrong? Where are you?"

_"I… In an alley off M street… Tim…"_ She was staring to cry. _"Someone… someone tried to… r-r-r…"_

That was all he needed. "I'm close, Sar, don't move, I'll be right there. Remember that movie _Miss Congeniality_? Anyone comes near you, SING them so hard they'll sing falsetto for a week, got me?"

She chuckled a little. _"Please… h-hurry, Tim… I-I don't like it here…"_

"Don't worry, Sarah, I'll be _right_ there, and I'm not hanging up." He moved toward the door, but Julie caught his arm.

"What's wrong?" she asked, worried. Tim was madder than she'd ever seen him. His eyes looked like they were going to catch fire, but underneath there was a lot of worry. "Tim?"

"Sarah's in trouble," he told her. "Let me go, I have to help her!" Julie let go and he ran out of the bar, watched by the entire group.

"Who's Sarah?" she asked Michelle from across the bar.

"His little sister," she replied. "She was nearly convicted of murder once, why, what's wrong?"

"She's in trouble, and Tim just left to help her." Lee stood.

"Not good, he'll kill for her," she said briskly. "C'mon."

"Kill?" Sandra squeaked. "You're not serious, right? Right? Michelle?"

The minute they were out of the bar, Michelle took out her SIG and cocked it, following the running shape of McGee down the dark street.

"Sarah?" he called down, alley after alley. "Sarah, where are you?"

At about the tenth one, he heard someone crying. Tim turned into it and found his little sister sitting next to a dumpster, crying. "Sarah…" he breathed, sitting next to her. "Come here."

She fell into his arms, crying. "Tim, he-he-he…"

"Did he?" he asked seriously. "Did he—?"

"N-no, but… Tim, he was so close! I-I could feel him b-breathing on m-my neck!" McGee pulled his sister closer. "He… he told me something…"

"What?" Tim asked, surprised. "What did he tell you?"

"'Tell McGeek this is payback'," she sniffled. Tim froze, not even noticing as the others met him in the back of the alley.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUHHHHHHHHHHHH!**

**i'm really hating Freddie now, aren't you, those of you who didn't hate him before (doubt there's anyone)? anyway, sorry, Siltrana, but it is _not_ the Simpsons. that would fit, but it's not what i was thinking of. i'll give you a hint: it's a book series, and he's a minor, recurring character.**

**more tomorrow!**

**PEACE~Tibki**


	4. Too Far

**i think you are going to like this one.**

**disclaimer: no ownage on my part.**

* * *

The next day, Freddie went too far.

Tim was sitting at his desk, desperately fighting the urge to go and pummel the man within an inch of his life. The others had been shocked when he told them who had done this to his sister, saying that Freddie had never gone this far before. Sandra, ruled by logic, hadn't believed it was him.

Tim had told them what he had said and they all immediately agreed it was Freddie. He was the only one on the continent who called him that. They had managed to talk him out of killing the unit head—barely—but that hadn't calmed his fury.

Sarah had privately told Julie that Tim was her own knight-in-shining armor, except without the armor and sword and lovey-dovey stuff, and with an NCIS cap, a SIG, and fraternal protectiveness. He was always to go-to-geek when she was in trouble.

Metro PD had taken the attempted rape case, but found nothing. Not a fingerprint, not a hair, not even a single skin cell that told them who had tried to take Sarah's innocence.

It pissed Tim off in a way they had never seen before.

But the cake had begun to be iced when Freddie had come into the basement at the same time he always did—3 hours later than everyone else—smirking like he'd just won the lottery. Tim had glared at him, but didn't make a move against the geek until…

"So, McGeek, how's your sister?"

Before the others could react, McGee had punched Freddie in the face so hard he slid halfway down the aisle toward his office. Tim was kneeling, getting his knife out from the sheath from his ankle, when Michelle, who'd been sworn to secrecy, arrived and held him back.

Tim had punched him in the eye, which was leaving a beautifully colored shiner. He was proud of his work, even if he ended up in the Director's office.

Vance had stared at him for a few minutes, trying to see past the anger (and satisfaction) written over the baby-face. "You're really trying my patience, you know that, Agent McGee?" he asked icily. "I've had 2 reports of insubordination from Agent Fortunato's office already. Now you've started a fight with him. That's not the way to go if you want his job." Vance was fishing and they both knew it. Tim didn't really like the suggestion that he was trying to mutiny against Freddie, but knew that Vance had to cover all bases.

"I don't want his job," McGee replied. "And I've already been punished for my "insubordination", by Fortunato."

"Well, if don't want it, why are you acting so roughly towards him? It's my understanding that you were one of the calmest men in headquarters, #3!!, the whole agency, before arriving at cyber crimes. Why the change?"

"With all due respect, sir, I thought you were the Director of a federal agency, not my therapist." McGee met Vance's eyes, still a little rushed at the adrenaline. "I will apologize to the agents who saw me down in cyber crimes—I know for a fact that Sandra fainted—but I won't say sorry to Fortunato, nor will I lie and say that punching him across the room didn't feel good."

"You're not sounding very respectful."

McGee had been slightly surprised at his own dialogue as he ran through it in his head again. It was all true, but Vance was right. He was his (ultimate) boss, he needed to give the man respect.

Tim sighed. "Yessir, sorry. Going through a lot these last couple of days."

"Yes… I was sorry to hear about your sister." The blood rushed to Tim's face. "But you've always been good at slowing your anger or taking it out on a punching bag, Agent McGee. Why take it out against Fortunato?"

Vance could only watch as all emotion seeped from his face, leaving a blank mask. "Metro PD couldn't find anything to even get a suspect. It was dark and Sarah was grabbed from behind, so she couldn't tell what he looked like." Not a lie. A re-direction. A subject change.

It worked. "So you decided to pummel your Unit head and break his nose in 3 places?"

McGee looked up, confused. "I, uh, hit him in the eye, sir. Not the nose."

Vance raised an eyebrow. "You were obviously taking lessons from Gibbs and Ziva, because the vibrations _from_ hitting his eye cracked his nose at the bridge and two places down the left side." Leon could've sworn a satisfied smile played on Tim's face before it blanked again. "I'm going to have to write a reprimand for you, Agent McGee, and it _will_ go on your record."

McGee stood, protesting. "But Director!"

"Yes, Agent McGee?" Tim bit his lip. "Unless you would like me to transfer you out of cyber crimes and into Admin, you're getting a reprimand."

Admin was right across the hall from cyber crimes, but dealt with paperwork only. His hand would fall off after a day. It was even worse than cyber crimes, even without a Freddie. "Would you like to join Admin?"

"…No sir."

"That's what I thought. You're dismissed."

Tim left the office a little angrier than before. Freddie had threatened him, taken the entire unit's personal items, made the men buy him expensive gifts, raped at least half the women there and almost done it to his little sister, and lorded his position over them, and didn't get a _sticky note_ on his perfect file. Tim's had just been ruined by his first reprimand.

He felt angry at Vance, disappointed at himself, satisfied for socking Freddie, mad at Freddie, sorry for Sarah and the other women, disbelieving at the fact that no one had said anything, and most of all, pissed that Freddie was getting away with it. He was slightly surprised a person could be all those things at one time.

Gibbs had looked up, raising his brows when the director himself had stormed his most docile agent up to Vance's office. But when McGee shook his head at Michelle, who swore darkly under her breath before he had disappeared back to cyber crimes without even a glance at Gibbs, he'd nearly chocked on his coffee.

He stood and motioned to Lee, who followed him into the elevator. This being her first time in the conference room, she frowned when he flipped the fire switch. "Isn't that illegal?" she asked. "Won't the fire department come?"

He shook his head. "You know what's wrong with McGee," he said curtly. Lee turned her eyes to his feet.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir—Gibbs."

"Don't play dumb with, me, Lee," he growled. "The only time McGee goes up to someone's office is when he's getting some sort of certificate to hang on his wall. Now he's in _trouble?_ The only time he's been in trouble is after Sarah…" Lee looked away. "It's about Sarah, isn't it?"

She didn't reply. "Dam^it, Lee, she's not a suspect again, is she?" he growled.

"Nosir."

"Is she hurt?"

"Nosir… but it came close." She met Gibbs's eyes. "Gibbs, I've been sworn to secrecy, but I can tell you that McGee is in trouble because he punched his unit head across the room." If she didn't know better, she'd say that Gibbs was surprised.

"He _punched_ his boss."

"Um… I think Agent Smithers, a friend of Tim's, said he 'Socked him so hard he slid 50 feet on an unwaxed floor.' He um… Smithers wants to learn how to be a field agent now so he can do that too."

* * *

**i can just imagine Smithers-a field agent! but seriously, i couldn't go to sleep last night cuz the image of McGee punching Freddie kept me up all night. i was grinning too hard.**

**anybody figure out Smithers' name yet?**

**PEACE~Tibki**


	5. Gotcha

**this one is long. like, double the last ones. but it's also fast-paced, so once the sh!^ hits the fan, you're gonna have to follow every word carefully. sorry about that, if that doesn't match your normal style of reading, but i can't rewrite it without something weird popping in. here it goes:**

**disclaimer: not. mine. get it?**

* * *

For the next few weeks, everyone noticed.

Henry, the security guard at the door of NCIS, noticed when he sulked through the checkpoint, not even saying 'hi'.

Other agents noticed when he dragged his feet past them toward the elevators. He _never_ dragged his feet.

Of course, the only way to go down was to go up first. Tim sighed as he pressed the up button in the elevator. It really was #3!!, having to go up and catch a glimpse at his former life every day before having to drop back into it's pits. He never went directly through the bullpen, but always around it. Unknown to him, Gibbs always saw when he was glancing longingly at the desks.

He of all people could tell that Tim _hated_ his new position in cyber crimes. The happy-go-lucky, optimistic agent he'd known had retreated behind something much darker.

And that disturbed him.

Tim never noticed Gibbs watching him as he went to the other elevator. Sometimes he'd see his former boss yelling at his new team. Sometimes he'd give one or two of them a few hints about how to survive with the boss. But most of the time he painstakingly ignored the entire place… except for that one longing glance.

Tim had lost all faith in the system because of Sarah. Sure, he still did his work, still helped put terrorists and criminals behind bars, but his belief that the bad guy would always be caught and punished disappeared when Sarah's case was determined cold. He'd gotten a call from a friend in Metro with the news, and it had taken every friend in the basement to keep him from either plain killing Freddie or quitting.

But today was the end of the 31-day period when Freddie would return his photo… in one piece, he hoped. All the others had assured him that Freddie had always given it back after 31 days, though not always in the best shape. But McGee wasn't exactly tearing his hair out over it. If Freddie had broken the glass, he could get another one from his album at home and keep it inside is desk.

It was Smithers's pen that worried him. That pen had been loaded with memories of both his uncle and grandfather, and he'd just snatched it away like it was just another BIC, not an antique fountain pen that could easily break. McGee had quietly slipped the man the number for his antique-object repairman, just in case.

But today, Tim found a surprise on his desk.

A steaming cup of coffee, a double Americano made specifically by his friend Landon at his favorite café, stood on the top of it.

He could count the number of people who knew he liked double Americanos from _that_ specific shop on one hand, and they were all away from D.C. His parents were in Ohio. Sarah had taken a break from college and gone to the countryside for a little R and R after her attack. Tony was aboard the _Regan_. Ziva was in Israel. Could it have been Abby? No, she didn't know about his coffee choice, he always drank Caf-Pow! around her.

McGee realized with a start that he'd forgotten someone, someone who knew _everything_. Gibbs. It had to be him.

Tim chuckled and, for old time's sake, smacked himself on the back of his head. His day had just been considerably brightened.

"Tim?" Julie asked from her station across the way from his. "Are you ok?"

He smiled back at her. "Better now than I was before," he replied. "Did you see who gave me this?"

Julie shrugged. "An older guy, grey hair. He dropped it off, looked around and left. Was he a friend of yours?"

Tim hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah… I guess Gibbs is a friend of mine."

The entire room stopped moving. _"That_ was Agent Gibbs?" Sandra asked, her eyes wide.

"_Terminator_ Gibbs?" Smithers added.

McGee just smiled and logged onto the computer.

This was a repeated action throughout the day. Every time he went to the bathroom, there was a new cup. When he came back from his empty lunch—Freddie had decided to go with him this time and had snatched his sandwich and ran before he could do anything—he found another cup along with a box of Chinese with a single letter on it (T) in Gibbs' handwriting.

After the third one, the coffee stopped coming and instead, there were Caf-Pow!s, most likely from Abby, who had probably been told by Gibbs. People kept staring at him as he worked.

"How can you eat this stuff?" Julie finally spoke up. "There's probably more caffeine and grease in your diet than in every Burger King in D.C.!"

"This is all natural," he replied, waving the giant Organic Caf-Pow!. "Fieldwork hours aren't set 9-5, Jules. You could stay behind your desk for hours past dark. Comfortable chairs are important because you sleep in them so much. Caffeine's a staple, more important than bread and water sometimes."

"And the takeout?" Sandra asked, turning up her nose. She was currently on a health kick and had shunned all fried and greasy food.

"You don't have the time or resources to make home-cooking on a stake out. You have to get used to it." He sighed, leaning back. "Ziva loved breakfast burritos—they were one of her favorite things about the U.S. Tony always had a chocolate muffin or some sort of doughnut. Gibbs always just had his coffee."

"You'd better quiet jabbering and get to work," Jonsie warned. "If Freddie sees you and you're not done, he'll fire us!"

McGee shrugged. "I'm done."

All eyes turned to him. "What?" Smithers asked. "You can't be done, you had 3 times more work than the rest of us!"

McGee pressed a button and lines upon lines of un-coded lettering scrolled down page upon page. "Abby and I wrote a program that can get through the easier stuff in minutes, a few years ago," he said, confused. "Don't you guys use it? We handed a couple copies over here after we realized how useful it was."

"We never got a program," Sandra replied. "Let me see it, please?"

Tim threw her a copy, arching it perfectly with the many years of practice that came from throwing Tony's paper balls back at him. She caught it expertly—she was on the NCIS softball team—and looked over it, frowning. "Freddie told us this was an MMORPG," she announced. "Not for us to play with. We had to get work done."

McGee's temper flared but quickly died. That's all it did lately, flare and die. "Well, it shouldn't be an MMORPG because _I_ wrote it, in Abby's lab. That's actually the first copy, there should be about 50 more we made for you guys…" He turned to his computer and started clacking rapidly. The others glanced at each other, knowing what he was doing but wanting to deny it. Tim had told him that he'd hacked several times, and he had managed to do so for Jonsie, but…

"I thought you were done," Julie said warily.

"I am," he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Then what're you…" she stood and looked over his shoulder, gasping. "Tim!" she hissed. "You're not actually…!"

"What's he doing?" Smithers asked, intrigued and worried.

"He's hacking into Freddie's computer!"

"What?" chorused around the room. "Th-that's impossible, he's got the firewall of China set up in there!" Jonsie stammered.

"This is illegal!" Sandra added in a high voice. "You're gonna get caught and sent to jail, and then we'll have a pissed Freddie to deal with…"

"Relax, I won't get caught," Tim waved them off. "The CIA had much worse firewalls than this, plus about a million nasty little bugs set into the drives. Had to copy all my things onto my home computer 5 times, just in case."

"_You hacked the CIA?"_ they all yelled, making him jump.

"Yeah…?"

"What's next, the Pentagon?" Sandra groaned. "Oh God, we're in _so much trouble_…"

"Hey, not even Abby and I combined can get into the Pentagon," he warned. "And the CIA wasn't illegal… exactly. Gibbs had me sign a get-out-of-jail-free card."

"Agent _Gibbs_ told you to hack?" Smithers repeated. "I thought he was like… no jokes, by the book, always got his guy!"

"He is… mostly. Gibbs doesn't care how we got information as long as we got it. I didn't do anything illegal without him pushing me… or expecting me."

"How did your cases hold up?" Jonsie had to know. "Illegally obtained evidence doesn't count in court."

"They weren't during cases," he covered. "Gibbs wanted to know why the CIA was making us get lie detector tests. Then someone kidnapped a Pentagon official's wife and kid—I hacked into the kidnapper's computer, not the Pentagon itself… ok, one or two were during cases. But I never found the evidence that convicted them, so they always held up." A few more seconds and he stopped typing, scrolling down with his mouse.

"Lets see here, a couple things off eBay, bills, bills, bills…"

"You're in his bank accounts?" Sandra hissed. "You need a warrant for that!"

"They won't find me." His eye scanned the page, until…

"Oh, God."

"What?" Julie noticed at McGee's green eyes had grown wide with horror. "What's wrong, did you get caught?"

"No," he growled, his aching fingers cracking as he balled them into fists. "He did. Print that out and send it to Director Vance, we've got a big problem down here." Julie grabbed his arm, just like in the bar a few days ago, but he just pulled away and started running down the aisles toward Freddie's office.

Julie looked back at the confused group of geeks.

"Do what he says," she sighed. As they started, she pulled a silver letter-opener from her desk drawer, _knowing_ she would need it, and followed Tim.

Tim had slammed the door with such a force that the assortment of possessions on his desk shook. Freddie was on his computer and looked up when he heard McGee enter.

"What do you want, McGeek?" he asked. Freddie had left him alone a little more after he had punched him—the bruise was still on his face—but he kept the name coming.

Before he could do anything, Freddie found himself being held against his wall, McGee glaring at him with a stare that could've only been learned from Gibbs.

"The names of your buyers," he answered. "Now!"

"What are you babbering about?"

"Don't play dumb!" Tim growled. "Who're your buyers?"

"I don't know what you're…" Julie burst through the door, finding the scene with wide eyes.

"Tim!" she screeched. McGee turned for less than a second, giving Freddie all the advantage he needed. The geek yelled and banged his forehead against Tim's, making the ex-field agent let go and swear. Freddie landed on his feet, unaffected by the hit because of the pain meds he'd had injected into his head, grabbed his own letter-opener from his desk and started running for the door.

Julie tried to stop him, but she wasn't trained as a field agent and had graduated from FLETC 5 years ago, long enough for her to forget her skills.

She screamed as his "dagger" met her thigh point-first. The sound got McGee to open his eyes, though his whole head was exploding in pain.

"Julie!" he yelled. "Don't move, I'll be right back!" She nodded painfully. Tim shot her a worried glance before running after the renegade geek.

Freddie was about 50 feet away, knocking over people and chairs and computers to slow his chaser down. Just as he passed the group surrounding McGee's computer, heading for the nearby elevator, a hunting knife flew past and stuck in his calf.

Freddie yelled in pain, falling to the ground. Almost everyone screamed; Sandra fainted once more.

Tim reached him, panting. He pulled a set of handcuffs from his desk and locked them around his wrists before yanking his bloody knife out of his leg. "Call an ambulance!" he told the group. "And Ducky! He's number 5 on my cell."

"You're gonna _help_ him?" Jonsie asked, shocked.

"I think I'd let him sit there and bleed out," Smithers nodded.

"I agree, but, unfortunately, I have to," Tim replied, "and Julie's hurt in his office." He pulled Freddie to his feet, ignoring him as he screamed in pain. "You're lucky I'm out of shape," he told the man, "I was aiming for your back."

He chained him to his chair with a second pair, then ran back to his office, with one stop, grabbing a first aid kit from the wall.

Julie was sitting against the other wall, wincing in pain. She was biting a hard-backed chair cushion to keep herself from screaming. McGee knelt next to her, thanking God that the first thing they had learned in FLETC was first aid.

The knife was still embedded in her leg. "Don't worry, Jules, you'll be fine," he assured her. All Tim could do at this point was wipe away the blood and keep pressure on it. He didn't want to risk removing the knife for fear of opening her femoral.

She pulled the cushion out of her mouth. "I'm never going to be a field agent," she managed. "You guys are all crazy."

Tim started to laugh. "Good crazy or bad crazy?"

"Can't tell right now…" She put the cushion back as a throb of pain came from her leg

The door opened again, this time revealing Ducky and Palmer in scrubs. "Timothy, are you alright?" the Scot asked, worried at the sight of blood covering his hands.

"I'm fine," Tim told him. He motioned to his friend. "It's all Julie's." Ducky turned to the patient and started examining her.

She squealed as he probed her leg. "I apologize, dear," he said, "I often forget that the few living patients I have feel everything I examine." Julie's eyes widened in fear.

"Er, Jules, this is Dr. Mallard and Jimmy Palmer," Tim explained. "They work down in autopsy, they're friends. Ducky, Palmer, Julie's my best friend down here."

"Call me Ducky, please," he insisted. "The blade hasn't touched the artery. You are one lucky girl, Julia… Juliana?"

"Julianne," she corrected.

"Julianne," he nodded. "Another inch higher or deeper and you would be on my table downstairs. Timothy, did you get the first aid…? Ah, perfect, well done my boy." Tim flushed at the praise. "Mr. Palmer, if you would kindly go look after the other knife victim? And do be sure not to hurt him too badly."

"He's been selling technology Abby and I wrote to Israel," Tim told him, "He confiscates people's most prized possessions for a month just for talking back to him. You don't even want to know what happens on his birthday. He almost _raped_ my little sister. Hurt him as much as you want."

Ducky looked worriedly at Tim, only to find anger, sadness, and truth inside his eyes. Palmer glanced at Ducky, who waved him out. As Ducky pulled out the knife then cleaned and treated her stab wound, McGee collapsed into a chair.

Once the doctor was done stitching her up, Julie let go of the cushion and said, "Dr. Mallard, something's wrong with Tim." Ducky turned and saw Tim in the chair, his head against the wall, asleep. "Freddie head-butted him."

Ducky stood and looked over McGee's forehead, shaking his own head. "He'll be fine, just a little bruised. He shouldn't've been running that soon after, though."

The door opened once more and Vance came in. "What the #3!! happened in here?" he asked, looking around the cluttered office, the two wounded agents, and Ducky.

"The head of our unit?" Julie replied with a question, "he was selling tech Tim built to Israel. All of this is stuff he confiscated from us. Tim's is over there." She pointed to a photo on the desk. One of the team, with faces drawn over the glass in Sharpie. "Director, I know this is going to sound disrespectful, but what the #3!! were you thinking when you hired him?"

Vance couldn't answer, only watch as Ducky, who simply raised an eyebrow at him, helped the cyber crimes agent to her feet and out the door to the NCIS garage, where an ambulance was waiting for her.

And he was left alone with a sleeping McGee, when he realized just how bad the mistakes he'd made really were.

* * *

**bout time really.**

**there's still one more chapter after this an maybe an epilogue i've really gotta get started on (it was a last-minute thought thing). hope you liked it!**

**PEACE~Tibki**


	6. Cake and Computers

**short baby chapter today, officially the end of it. there's an epi coming along... if i can get to it b/w all my homework and stuff. but it will come, hopefully by tomorrow!**

**disclaimer: NOT MINE.**

* * *

He was the butt of everyone's jokes afterward: even a caffeine-high McGee could always get to sleep and stay knocked out for hours afterward.

Well, all the normal agents' jokes, and only after a week. When he'd arrived back at the building after a few days off, Tim had frozen at the sight of the entire bullpen applauding him. He noticed, to his disappointment, that the MCRT had been called out and Gibbs wasn't there.

On the other hand, his cyber crimes friends had thrown a party for him. It was as much a surprise for them as it was for him, though, because when he found the entire sub-basement in the dark, he'd imagined the worst and nearly shot half of them with his specially reinstated personal handgun.

There was a banner and cake—they hadn't known how often he'd had to do this before, so had gone all out for him. And best of all, Julie was standing next to the buffet table, smiling and leaning on a pair of crutches.

They'd told him the news: Freddie had confessed to the attempted rape of Sarah McGee, as well as the rape of 5 women in his unit, minor larceny, abuse of his position, _and_ treason, getting a full 50 year sentence in Leavenworth, where he probably wouldn't last a week, in the interrogation room. When Tim had asked who the interrogators were, they'd all smiled before replied, Gibbs and Vance, though there had been a technical malfunction and the entire first 3 hours of the tapes were missing. As Smithers put it, "God only knows what happened in there… well, him, Gibbs, Vance, and Freddie."

It wasn't until the cake was gone and they were all back at their desks did Tim notice the cup of steaming double Americano standing on his desk, this time with a note.

Curious, he opened it and smiled.

_Good work, Tim._

"Hey boss?" Smithers asked. Tim, not listening, looked up, expecting to see Freddie standing there for a second. "Boss?" said the curly-haired man standing in front of him.

McGee finally figured out that he was talking to him. "Er… me?" Tim cleared his head, mentally slapping himself again as Smithers nodded. "I-I mean, yeah?"

"Um, here." The man retreated from his desk as he handed him a wrapped rectangle.

Tim unwrapped it and smiled again. They'd fixed his photo.

"Thanks, guys," he told the entire group.

Now he could get back to the "special job" Vance had given him, in a place he hated, with people he liked.

He could handle a few more months.

* * *

**if i were Freddie's judge, i'd give him a lot more than 50 years... i think i'd throw a book at him. literally.**

**PEACE~Tibki**


	7. Epilogue

**epilogue!!!!!!!**

* * *

Fort Leavenworth, Kansas:

The buzzer sounded as the light above the solid steel door turned green. Two guards stared straight ahead, gripping their guns tight as she passed by.

Sitting inside the visitor's room was a thin, heavily glassed man in a dark green jumpsuit and handcuffs. Frederick Fortunato had been in maximum security for the last few weeks and was now sporting a few beautifully colored bruises across his face, decorating it better than it had been with his shattered and badly healed nose. He'd looked like an average geek a few months ago; now he was a hardened criminal with huge eyeglasses.

She sat down on the other chair at the opposite end of the table, glaring at the man like he was a piece of dog $#!t on her boot. "Freddie."

Freddie grinned. "Hello, Special Agent Lee. Long time no see, huh?"

Michelle kept her look up, unwavering. Freddie met her gaze and they stayed silent for a few minutes. The guards outside the room could feel the tension inside.

"So, to what do you owe the pleasure?" he asked smugly.

"You sold technology to Israel. You committed treason, you raped 5 women and attempted another, and you stabbed Julie. If you think I'd like to be here, you can go hang yourself on a shoelace."

Freddie shrugged. "That would be kind of hard. They confiscate those now, you know? I'm not even allowed a pencil, for God's sake." He smirked. "Why are you here, then?"

"You're a sexist pig who's put himself on such a high pedestal he can't even see that he's fallen yet," she continued, ignoring him. "But I know that you know about Amanda."

Freddie broke into a grin. "Your… foster sister, right? Raised her like a daughter. Didn't she… go missing a little while ago?"

"If you don't tell me where she is…"

"I don't know where she is," he interrupted. "I'm only a minor player, like you."

"You're nothing like me."

"Aren't I?" the man asked. "We both betrayed our country, more than once. We've both used our friends and fellow agents…"

"None of the people you've met are your friends. They all hated you as much as the next person."

"…The point is, we've got similarities."

"But you _choose_ to be a traitorous, slimy little a$$hole, I have no choice. Tell me where Amanda is!" Michelle was on her feet now.

"I told you, I don't know." Freddie lifted his shackled hands and started cleaning his fingernails. "And even if I did, why would I help you?"

A sharp _crack_ went through the room as her hand collided with his face with such a force, his neck hurt from whiplash. A new bruise started forming—a hand-shaped one on his cheek. "Because," she whispered in his ear, disgusted at being that close. "I can get you what you want."

Freddie's eyes widened, ever so slightly. "You mean…?"

"A computer with internet connection."

That was an offer he couldn't refuse—he couldn't last much longer without technology. "All I know is a bunch of coordinates," he admitted, begging. "They lead to a forest in Virginia, Prince something, can you really get me a laptop? Or even a phone?"

Michelle smirked, pulling her bag out from under the table and placing it on top. She reached in and took out a sleek new iPhone, pushing it across the table before shouldering the bag and leaving.

Freddie clawed at the phone, desperate to get some sort of news, some sort of technological…

The hopeless and forlorn groan coming from the door made the guards and Michelle all smile.

There was no signal in Fort Leavenworth.

* * *

**ok, i couldn't help it, i had to stay in canon and keep Michelle as a hero/villain. honestly, here, i think she's still a good guy-he deserves that torture.**

**this is the end of the world as we know it, this is the end of the world as we know it, and i feel fine!!!!**

**PEACE~Tibki**


End file.
